Blessed
by acorngirl
Summary: Something has happened in Sunnydale that has violated the natural order. Buffy and her friends find out what happens when some laws are broken. Chapter 2 now up! Spike tells the other what he saw and Anya gets upset.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. The one that I could own is merely an   
inspiration of something else.  
  
Author's Note: As part of my service to you I will do my best to make this entertaining   
and as well written as I can. I work on this to make the most of my writing skills which I   
have found REALLY need improving. I will need your help and input on making myself   
a better writer for you. Thank you in advance.  
  
This takes place after "Smashed" since that was the last episode I saw.  
  
Blessed: Chapter One—Cast in Moonlight   
  
  
If 'should haves' and 'if onlys' were baskets of kittens, Spike would be the richest demon   
in all of Sunnydale. He should not have started hitting her. He should not have enjoyed   
being able to. If only he'd found a better way to tell her there was something wrong with   
her. If only he hadn't told her at all. In the end he had her where he wanted her. In the   
end her body was his. In this case though, he thought wryly, the end did not justify the   
means.  
  
The smell of her lingered with him, in his clothes, in his very skin but yet something   
seemed sour. They had argued. He expected that. He could count on the fingers of one   
hand the times they'd been together and they hadn't fought. Something about their   
arguing always made her feel better, like disagreeing with him made her that much more   
right. This feeling didn't come from that. The arguing was normal.  
  
Spike thought that he would be happy. He'd gotten what he'd always wanted but he   
couldn't shake the feeling that he had been wanting the wrong thing. He had been   
chasing her body only to find that he craved her heart. In capturing that elusive prize he   
had failed miserably.  
  
He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head as he made his way through the cemetery.   
His whole body language conveyed the shame in his thoughts. He had messed things up   
badly. He saw his mistakes now and all of those missed opportunities he had to show her   
how much he cared for her. Why did these realizations always happen after the fact?   
Why couldn't he see the right thing to do when he needed to do it? Perhaps he'd been an   
evil bastard for so long he just didn't know how to stop. He had spent more than a   
century cultivating his personality into the perfect model of the vampire he wanted to be.   
Now all of this perfection was working against him. He loved Buffy. He just didn't   
know how to do it right so that she would love him back.  
  
He stopped suddenly as he realized where his feet had dragged him. Less than twenty   
feet ahead of his path laid Buffy's grave. All manner of morose and self defeating   
thoughts usually ran through his mind when he found himself here but not tonight.   
Tonight something ripped his mind from his usual pattern.  
  
Buffy's grave had a visitor.  
  
A young woman stood there, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight breaking through the   
trees. Even though her back was to him, Spike knew he had not met her before. She was   
small, shorter and more slight than Buffy. Her long chestnut hair had been pulled away   
from her face with two strands that had been twisted into braids. She wore a long cloak   
that shimmered in the light but didn't seem to have a distinct color. She could have been   
a ghost as she stood there motionless and without a sound.   
  
She looked decidedly out of place. Young women didn't visit graves after dark unless   
they were slayers. Spike considered informing her of that when he realized that he   
wasn't the only vampire to have noticed her presence. A dark haired man who seemed   
fond of mullets peered out from behind a large oak near the girl.   
  
Spike considered letting him have her. It would serve her right being stupid enough to   
lay herself out on a serving platter as she did. He turned to leave the scene but stopped.   
Something about her hair, her cloak and her smallness reached out to him. Stupidity was   
a good enough reason to die but luckily for her, curiosity got the better of him. He   
wanted to know why she was there. He wanted to see her face.  
  
Mullet-boy was not a vampire who believed in subtlety. He sprang out from behind his   
tree at the woman. He bared his teeth like a rabid dog and lunged at her throat. She   
turned to face him and stepped back to avoid his attack. She moved in a flowing   
shimmer of cloak that almost could not be seen.  
  
Spike grabbed the other vampire by his ample supply of hair and threw him back towards   
the tree. Before he could recover and attempt to defend himself, Spike managed to   
plunge the jagged end of a fallen branch into his heart. His flesh burned instantly away to   
ashes leaving virtually nothing to show for the vampire's existence.  
  
Spike stood to face the young woman whose life he had just saved. To her credit she   
hadn't screamed or cried as he had expected. She hadn't run away either and that   
puzzled him. He opened his mouth to admonish her for her stupidity but as his eyes met   
hers, his words lost their way.  
  
Her face was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Her every feature seemed to reach a sharp   
point. Cheekbones, eyes, chin, even her nose looked as if chiseled in stone. Her angular   
eyes held no expression as she seemed to look right through him. As unusual as her face   
appeared to him, what held his attention was the sword that she held before her.   
  
"Oh, that's just great," he announced to the woman and the sword she held. He had   
quickly found his voice when he realized that he stood at the sword's business end. He   
really had the worst time figuring out what women really wanted.  
  
Spike was just about to ask her in not very gentle words what she did want when without   
warning she planted her foot in his chest. The force of her sudden kick shot him   
backwards about ten feet. He landed on his back momentarily stunned. The ground   
wasn't soft and his head missed a neighboring grave-marker by mere inches.  
  
With effort he lifted his head and looked back at the woman. To his surprise he saw that   
two new vampires had converged on the spot where he once stood. Though not sporting   
mullets, these two seemed to be equally as fashion challenged as the one he'd already   
dusted. Similar traits could mean similar vision. They were part of a gang but he   
couldn't tell if they intended to attack him or her. The woman effectively held their   
attention now as she had unceremoniously knocked Spike out of the picture.  
  
He barely saw her raise her hand, just a hint as her cloak swirled around her, but the   
result of her subtle motion was devastating. The vampires transformed to screaming piles   
of dust as her sword severed both of their heads in one stroke.  
  
Spike would have been astounded at this feat if he hadn't been saddled with more   
pressing matters. Quite literally. A female vampire had tumbled over the tombstone by   
his head to land astride his chest. Before he could react, she pinned his arms down   
beneath the arches of her impossibly tall high-heeled shoes.  
  
He kicked and squirmed ferociously but nothing would dislodge her. She flashed him a   
toothy grin as she plunged a stake into his chest.  
  
"Whoops," she said softly. The stake had missed his heart by less than an inch. She   
meant to do that, Spike mused. She wanted him to suffer before she killed him. Spots   
spilled before his eyes as the pain blinded him. He waited for her to say more but her   
taunts never came. He felt the weight of her body leave him and all that remained of her   
was the scent of her ashes in the air.  
  
Spike attempted to stifle a pained cry as he felt the stake being pulled out from his chest.   
He failed and a small yelp issued from his closed mouth. Immediately he could feel the   
wound closing and the healing beginning. The pain was still at a level of unbelievable.   
He wasn't ready to move. He hoped that he wouldn't have to.  
  
"Open your eyes, William," she said to him in a soft whisper.  
  
Before that moment Spike hadn't realized that he had closed them. As she requested he   
opened his eyes and saw her face hovering over him. The woman in the shimmering   
cloak seemed more mysterious than ever before. Her voice possessed an exotic accent   
that he couldn't place but the sound of it warmed him in a way that he couldn't explain.  
  
She examined his wound closely with the gentle touch of her probing fingers. He   
expected her poking to hurt but instead the pain began to ebb away. "You are quite lucky   
you are so despised. If she had not taken the time to torture you I would not have been   
able to save you."  
  
"Lucky me," Spike spat out.  
  
Her face came close to his. For the first time Spike caught her scent, a trace of flowers   
whose names had been forgotten. A sudden realization caused a chill to pass through   
him. Something about her seemed unreal. He could see her and hear her and he could   
smell her but somehow she didn't really seem to be there. Like a phantom. Or a   
memory.  
  
Her eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you alright, William?" she asked.  
  
Spike nodded. With a gentle pull she brought him to his feet. "You should take care.   
These assailants were meant for you. You should head for the safety of friends and take   
stock of your enemies."  
  
Spike looked down to inspect the damage done to his shirt. His body mended more   
easily than his clothes. "That's going to be a long list," he remarked dryly. The number   
of those wishing him good and properly staked had risen considerably since he had taken   
the side of the Slayer. Friends were in short supply.  
  
He looked up from his shirt only to find the strange woman had disappeared. No answers   
for him tonight only more questions and countless more doubts. He gathered his coat   
around him to ward off a chill in the air that wasn't there and walked back to the path he   
had left minutes ago.  
  
He could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost, but not quite. Something   
had happened and Spike was a witness to many things he couldn't explain.  
  
He had no safety of friends to run to. The Magic Box would just have to do.   
  
TBC  
  
In Chapter 2, we will see what has Spike so unnerved. This meeting will alarm them all   
but only Anya understands the true danger…  
  
Be patient with me. I promise I will post chapter two. I just want to make sure it is good. 


	2. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Author's Note: I began this story months ago but the muse dragged me elsewhere and wouldn't let me share my time with this story. I've made a promise to finish everything I start, so here I am. Please read and review. I'll try not to let it be so long until Chapter Three.  
  
Disclaimer: The same as for Chapter One.  
  
Blessed –Chapter Two: Guess Who's Coming for Dinner  
  
Spike looked through the front window of The Magic Box at a twisted, distorted version of a Norman Rockwell painting. Xander stood at the counter opposite Anya. She gleefully tallied the store's receipts for the day while he halfheartedly disputed his latest task in wedding preparation.  
  
Willow sat at the table helping Dawn with her homework. With his sharp hearing, Spike listened while the young witch turned an explanation of cellular mitosis into a Dr. Suess rhyme.  
  
Back in the shadows of the store almost unseen, Buffy watched them all in silence. Since her resurrection she had never found a way to reconnect. She went through the motions and forced a smile or a funny turn of phrase when appropriate but it wasn't real. Perhaps the others were fooled. They were so grateful to have her back they blinded themselves to her distance.  
  
But Spike knew. Something was broken inside of her. A part was missing the part that made her belong. She could only watch from the edge of her circle of friends not able to step towards the center. Outside looking in.  
  
Like him.  
  
The only difference being he had no idea what it was like to be in that circle of friends to begin with. He could fight by their side, destroy all manner of demons or monsters that opposed them, but never, ever would they call him friend. He would never belong.  
  
That thought brought Spike more pain than he was willing to acknowledge, especially to himself. He considered leaving but he weighed the importance of the evening's events in his mind and decided he should tell them. He could handle the discomfort of disrupting their happy little scene.  
  
He opened the door and above his head a bell made a soft ringing to announce his presence. He stifled the urge to rip that insipid little bell down as all eyes turned to him and conversation came to an abrupt end. He stopped past the threshold allowing only enough room for the door to close behind him. Willow called out a polite greeting. Spike looked up to acknowledge it but caught Buffy's gaze instead. Every inch of her face and every phrase of body language demanded to know why he had come.  
  
He looked away painfully. He wouldn't have come if he didn't think he had to.  
  
"So, Spike, what brings you by?" Xander piped up, having chosen a properly clever jab. "Decided to renew the old stalking routes?"  
  
Instead of firing off a biting retort, Spike decided to get to the point. "I saw something tonight," he said. He voice sounded unusually quiet.  
  
Buffy stepped forward. She had relaxed slightly at finding he hadn't come specifically for her. "What did you see?" she asked calmly.  
  
Spike ventured further into the store and leaned against the back of a chair. "There was a girl in the cemetery," he began. He looked to the floor as he replayed the scene in his head. "She was just standing there like she was waiting for something. I thought that was strange enough but a then vampire came out at her."  
  
Dawn tensed and nearly got to her feet. "Did he get her?" she asked, concerned.  
  
"Is she okay?" Willow echoed.  
  
Spike looked to them curiously. They worried so much about someone they had never met. "I managed to stake him before he could touch her," he said, watching them visibly relax.  
  
"Good," Xander replied. "Spike's making new friends."  
  
"Shut up, Xander," Buffy said quietly, her brow furrowed. "He's not finished."  
  
Spike met her eyes again. Her concern was genuine. She understood from his unusually awkward demeanor that what he had encountered was something serious. "There were more of them," he continued, "a bit too much for me to handle."  
  
Willow had gotten to her feet. "But you got out…?" she asked with a touch of uncertainty. She couldn't bring herself to ask about the girl. The tone of Spike's story didn't seem to be one for a happy ending.  
  
"The girl," he said with a faint hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "She killed them all. Beheaded two of them at once with a sword." He shook his head slowly at all of them. "I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"Maybe it's a new Slayer?" Dawn offered hopefully.  
  
"Yeah," Anya agreed. "Buffy did actually die this time." A nervous tremor in her voice betrayed her true feelings. She didn't believe what she said.  
  
"It's not. Is it?" Buffy asked, sensing his continued hesitation. "She wasn't a Slayer."  
  
Spike shook his head again. "She wasn't human," he said finally. He didn't watch their reactions. His mind replayed the musical tilt of her voice, her lighter than air presence, her smell. He knew when she came close enough to catch her scent that she was not human.  
  
But she was no demon either.  
  
Anya grew visibly tense. She heard a warning no one else heard. "What do you mean?" she demanded coming around from behind the counter. "What was she?"  
  
Willow raised her hand in a calming gesture. "What did she look like?" she asked in a less alarming tone.  
  
Self conscious of her abruptness, Anya backed off. She turned to a shelf of books to draw herself out of their attention.  
  
Spike focused on the details of his memory to try to offer a useful description. "Angular features, very young," he said, knowing that he wasn't much help. The braid of her hair and the style of her dress had evaporated from his mind, replaced by that smell, that intoxicating smell. He couldn't tell them that. He didn't even want to think about what they'd say if he told them she smelled like flowers. Xander would have a field day.  
  
He only had one word left to describe her, "Beautiful."  
  
Xander didn't even pause to crack a smile. "Watch out, Buffy. You're about to be replaced."  
  
No one reacted to his comment, but Anya pushed past him. She held a book in her hands. Her fingers marked a page. She walked to Spike and held the book open to his view. An old fear haunted her eyes. "Was this what you saw?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Spike took the book from her hands and looked to a detailed sketch on the page. Despite the fact that the drawing depicted a male, it could have been a direct description of the girl he had encountered. He nodded. "Yeah, just like that," he acknowledged.  
  
Anya clapped her hands together to keep them from trembling. "I knew it. I actually saw this coming," she said with a small amount of satisfaction mixed with a much greater amount of fear. She turned suddenly to Willow to announce, "It's all your fault."  
  
"What? My fault?" Willow said, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You and your magic!" Anya raged, advancing on the young witch. Everyone watched the scene, not knowing how to respond. Behind her sudden fury, tears formed in her eyes. "There's an order in this universe and if you start changing everything around to make yourself happy then eventually you have to answer to a higher authority. That wasn't just a pretty girl with a sword Spike ran into tonight." She stood only inches away now. Although her voice was no longer raised, it carried the chill of a deadly warning. "You have no idea what kind of trouble you've gotten us in. You've made a mess, Willow and someone has come to clean it up."  
  
"C'mon Xander," Anya snapped as she turned on her heel. She grabbed her hapless fiancé by the arm and pulled him behind her towards the door to the basement.  
  
Helplessly, Xander called back to the others before disappearing, "Just talk amongst yourselves."  
  
Spike broke the silence of the remaining group. "An elf," he read aloud from the book he still held. No one understood Anya's hasty rant, only that some threat had come. Her words were not out of the ordinary, but her level of fear was.  
  
"I take it we're not talking about the Santa's helper variety," Buffy responded, prompting Spike to read more.  
  
"Hardly," he replied. "It says here that they are appointed by the Powers to enforce the natural order."  
  
"What have we done to upset the natural order?" Dawn asked with concern.  
  
"Resurrecting the dead," Willow answered quietly.  
  
For a long moment, no one breathed. They let her words sink in. Anya's statements finally made fearful sense.  
  
Spike remembered suddenly where he had first found the elf. "You think she's here for Buffy?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.  
  
"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Willow answered, her voice threatening to become shrill. "I mean, Buffy was in heaven, where she was supposed to be and we took her away from that." She looked at them all with guilt and shame as she realized that no one present played a willing role in that act. She only involved those she believed she could influence. "I took her away from that."  
  
"What about me?" Dawn asked quietly.  
  
Buffy turned to immediately comfort her sister. "Dawn, I'm not going to leave you," she assured her, hoping that simply saying it would make it so.  
  
Dawn shook her head fitfully. "No that's not what I meant," she said with a strained voice. She looked to them all fearfully and not finding comfort from any of them. "What if it's me? I'm not exactly following natural order. I'm not even supposed to be here."  
  
"Little bit has a point," Spike said, voicing aloud their unspoken thoughts.  
  
"Spike!" Buffy said warningly. She could handle being the target of another all-powerful being, but not her sister. Not again.  
  
Spike pursed his lips and snorted at the chastisement. "I'm saying that we don't know," he began. Something began to nag at his senses to draw his attention somewhere. "This is Sunnydale, home of the Hellmouth. She could be here for any one of a dozen reasons. Guessing about it is not going to yet us anywhere." It hung heavily in the air. He could smell it. Something floral.  
  
Buffy scowled at him, her hands at her hips. "How do you suggest we find out?"  
  
Spike nodded his head up towards the loft. "We ask her," he said.  
  
Above them, crouched like a porcelain gargoyle, the elf watched them. Even as they discovered her, she did not move but remained in her impassive stance. She could have watched them from the moment Spike had arrived.  
  
Buffy pulled Dawn behind her. At the same time, Spike jumped to place himself between the two and the elf. Willow lifted her hands before her. What she intended to do, even she didn't know.  
  
"That would not be wise, young witch," the elf warned softly. "The use of magic against an elf is a serious crime and you may already be in a great deal of trouble."  
  
TBC  
  
Chapter Three will bring the answer to the questions they are all asking: "Why is she here?" Trust me, it's not what you think it is. 


End file.
